Chapter 410: A massive difference.

Chapter 410: 410: A massive difference.

SOUL CAPACITY: 7.

That was the number recorded during his awakening, the number the Academy had received with his admission documents and the number that, according to everything the evaluators understood about Contractors, should have made what they were currently watching increasingly difficult to explain.

Silver himself knew why.

The multicolored stone and everything that followed had removed the limit that number once represented, but nobody else knew that.

As far as the academy was concerned, Silver Ruddington was a spatial Contractor with a Soul Capacity of seven who had somehow remained standing through pressure thirteen, fifteen, seventeen and now nineteen while maintaining stable output and manipulating three separate objects without showing the core instability they should have expected long ago.

The instructor behind the observation glass looked down at his profile for what had to be the fourth time.

"Confirm Candidate Ruddington’s registered Soul Capacity."

An assistant checked.

"Seven."

"Historical reading?"

"Confirmed during awakening. No amended Soul Capacity evaluation has been submitted."

Another instructor frowned. "Could the original evaluation have been inaccurate?"

"Possible, but not by this much."

"Reawakening?"

"No documented secondary awakening."

"Core mutation?"

"Nothing registered."

The senior instructor said nothing.

His attention returned to the chamber.

Silver stood beneath pressure nineteen, and beside him stood a completely different problem.

RAVENNA ARKLAND.

SOUL CAPACITY: 19.

Her performance required no mysterious explanation. It was frightening precisely because the number explained it perfectly.

Nineteen was the highest known Soul Capacity in the world. A number like that promised monstrous potential.

What it did not promise was discipline being shown before them.

The academy had seen candidates with exceptional capacities waste energy, destabilize their cores, and rely on overwhelming output.

Most eighteen years old have never been forced to develop proper control because brute strength solved almost everything around them.

Ravenna wasn’t one of them.

Her three metal spheres remained suspended. The energy coating across her body fluctuated only slightly beneath the enormous pressure.

Her breathing was heavier now, but controlled.

Her posture had lowered enough to distribute the artificial weight more efficiently, and rather than pouring additional power outward every time the pressure increased, she had reduced unnecessary output.

One instructor looked at her readings.

"Arkland’s control loss is below six percent."

Another checked.

"Five-point-seven."

"At pressure nineteen?"

"Yes."

The senior instructor’s eyes narrowed.

"Combat background?"

"Extensive independent field activity. Confirmed beast hunting. Sword specialization with secondary rifle proficiency. Fire ability."

"Formal military training?"

"None."

"Interesting."

Inside the chamber, Ravenna had no idea what they were saying about her, nor would she have particularly cared.

The pressure hurt like a bitch, that was more relevant.

Her legs felt heavy enough that every slight adjustment required conscious effort. Her core was under a degree of compression she rarely experienced, and maintaining the three spheres was beginning to feel less like manipulating objects and more like trying to keep them suspended beneath an invisible ocean.

She refused to let them fall, because she simply hated losing.

That had been true long before Silver.

Ravenna had spent years discovering that talent attracted expectations just as easily as it attracted admiration.

She had learned very young that the easiest way to shut all of them up was to become good enough that the number stopped being the most interesting thing about her.

Her fingers moved and the left sphere dipped.

She corrected it.

The right sphere rotated while the third remained perfectly still.

Ravenna breathed slowly through her nose.

Then the display changed.

[EXTENDED PRESSURE EVALUATION AUTHORIZED.]

Silver stared upward.

Ravenna did the same.

A new number appeared.

[SOUL PRESSURE: 20]

Several candidates still inside the chamber reacted immediately; one swore while another withdrew before the increase even fully arrived.

The pressure descended.

Silver’s knees bent while Ravenna’s shoulder dropped slightly.

The invisible force pressing against them intensified beyond the highest standard Soul Capacity classification.

He felt his recovering body complain first.

The injuries had improved dramatically, but improvement wasn’t the same as being untouched. The pressure seemed exceptionally talented at finding every part of him that had recently been broken, cut, strained or overused and reminding him that yesterday’s medicine had not rewritten reality.

He tightened his jaw.

One sphere dropped several centimeters.

He caught it.

Beside him, Ravenna’s spheres shook. She corrected two but the third began drifting.

Her eyes sharpened.

A thread of controlled energy extended and the sphere stopped.

Silver glanced sideways.

She wasn’t looking at him anymore, she was completely focused on her own test.

He smiled faintly.

The chamber didn’t need two people trying to prove something to each other. The academy wanted to know what Ravenna Arkland could do.

It was getting its answer.

Another candidate withdrew, then another. Pressure twenty remained for twenty seconds... thirty... forty.

Silver’s breathing became heavier, Ravenna’s fingers trembled but neither withdrew.

The instructors behind the glass exchanged looks.

The senior instructor finally spoke through the chamber.

"Control task change."

The three spheres dropped.

Silver allowed his hands to lower.

That relief lasted approximately two seconds. Five narrow metal rings rose from the floor around each remaining candidate.

The instructions appeared.

[MAINTAIN ENERGY COATING.]

[ROTATE FIVE TARGETS AT DIFFERENT SPEEDS.]

[DO NOT ALLOW TARGET CONTACT.]

Silver stared in disbelief.

"You people are unpleasant."

Ravenna’s lips twitched.

The speaker activated.

"Candidate Ruddington."

He looked toward the glass.

"Yes, sir?"

"Less commentary and more work."

"Understood."

The rings began moving.

He reached with his core energy. His first instinct was to use Spatial Sense to make the task easier since it was already active.

The world around him existed in layers of distance and movement. He could feel where each ring was without following them visually.

He separated his attention between the five rings. The rings rotated, one nearly striking another.

He altered its trajectory.

The strain on his concentration increased. His Mental Resistance helped, but the combination of pressure, spatial awareness and multiple control points was beginning to accumulate.

She handled the task differently.

She didn’t possess his spatial awareness, so she compensated with discipline.

Her gaze moved; left, upper right, center, lower left, and far right.

She established a rhythm. Rather than constantly reacting to five independent targets, she created a repeating movement pattern and maintained it.

An instructor noticed.

"Arkland standardized the rotation."

"Efficient."

"She turned five control problems into one sequence."

"Exactly."

Ravenna’s first ring passed behind her, second crossed left, third rose, fourth descended and fifth circled wide. Her fingers moved slightly as the pattern held.

The senior instructor marked something on his tablet.

Silver didn’t see it; he was busy wondering whether the academy had decided students needed to suffer before dinner.